[ripple effect]

you were drafting lyrics to slow songs

with all this rain in your throat.

the sky falling in sheets —

& you kissed white plaster, beckoning

for me to come home,

as you studied sorrow from the inside.

the ache within us

thickening & sending vibrations

through time, which is strange

after knowing you as long as i have.

& the rain is still here:

i am watching it & listening

to the music we used to dance to.

so while the seasons change,

& you still do not come home,

i pour your name into the wet smell

of earth after hurricanes;

the absence loosening in my chest

as your voice comes to me

from a distance beyond footfalls.

how can one person be

so full of fear, so far from home?

& with death, our eyes

flit open & shut — you come & go,

hardly staying long enough

to breathe. you are returning to

some light i’ll never know,

with eyes i cannot meet again.

& i come home to this curtain,

a small bundle of sadness on the floor.

i have missed you beyond age —

false flowers, sublime morning air.